Matkijanärhi
by SpainsRomano9000
Summary: Feliciano stopped beside it, and dug his hand deep into the contents of the bowl, feeling around. A part of me wanted him to hurry up, but the more dominant part of me willed for his hand to never lift. Which it did. For the piece of paper to not be held by him. Which it was. For him to not read its content. Which is exactly what happened. "Emil Bondevik." My vision grew blurry.


_**From the Treaty of Treason:**_

 _ **In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up 2 persons between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public "Reaping."**_

 _ **These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of The Capital. And then transferred to a public arena where they will Fight to the Death, until a lone victor remains.**_

 _ **Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games.**_

Start:

I shut my eyes tightly as rays of sunbeams gleam down upon them, willing the tightly closed vessels to open and yet again experience the so-called 'beauty' of another day. Flickering slightly, they release to reveal orbs of deep blue and I stretch as I sit up. Glancing about the room, I take in the wooden walls and dirty brown tile floors. My home, this is the place I grew up and will continue too until I am of age to leave.

A sigh takes me out of my brief trance and I turn to find the source stirring slightly in sleep. My younger brother, Emil Bondevik, is lying on his side in my bed. He must have snuck in last night again, he has been doing it rather frequently ever since we were both little. It has never bothered me as I enjoy the company that he offers. He is a quiet boy with beautiful hair so light that it could be considered white by many. In my opinion, Emil took after our mother and I, Lukas Bondevik, our father, or what I can remember of him at least.

He was a strong man, our father. He was sweet and comforting. He died years ago when I was 7 and Emil had just turned 3. It was a mine accident that killed many and sent quite a few families in the area into starvation, as they had no man left to provide for them. But I didn't like to think about that.

My father and I were extremely close and he used to teach me many things. If I have any regrets, it's that Emil didn't get to know him like I did.

The sunlight finally makes its way onto Emil's sleeping features and a groan escapes his lips. I've always told him he's never been a majestic riser, yet he has never seemed to believe me.

His eyes flutter open, revealing violet orbs, much different from my own and upon noticing me, a tiny smile graces his features as he mumbles a quick "Good morning."

I return his smile and stand up, my muscles slightly aching from the long nights sleep as I walk over to him and kiss his forehead before I leave. He doesn't need to ask where I'm going as I go there every day upon waking. I grab my hunting boots and jacket, as well as a bag to keep any food I may find in so that it's kept a secret, before I turn and say my goodbyes.

The air of the town is not as cheerful as it usually it. I wouldn't necessarily say that it's usually cheerful, but it's hardly ever like this. Today is the day of The Reaping, after all. Each year, 2 people from each Districts between the ages of 12 and 18 are picked to perform in the annual Hunger Games. Be it girl and boy, or two boys or two girls, it doesn't matter to _them_ , as long as they get their bloodshed. The Capital is the center of all the Districts, it is the central nervous system that rules over us all. People born into the Capital are of a privileged gene, while we, the workers, are of a lower status. And being in District 12, my home town is said to be at the bottom of the food chain.

District 12 is one of the smaller districts, especially compared to the size of that of 11 or 4. Each District exports a resource material for the Capital to use as it desires and ours just so happens to mine coal, leading us to be stereotyped as one of the dirtier of districts.

But walking through the market area, called The Hob, and towards my destination, all thoughts of politics are erased from my mind and I can already taste the fresh air of freedom. I great the locals whom great me and politely and decline the offer of the merchants willing me to stop at their store. I've never been one for social interaction, yet I couldn't bring myself to be rude to the people who are only trying to make a living, much like myself.

The fence of the forest is just inching its way into my site and I pick up my pace into a light jog as I near. The entirety of District 12 is covered by an electrical wire fencing, supposedly for our own protection yet personally I feel at least a thousand times safer out there than locked up in here. Although it has the electricity warning posted all along its surface, the circuit is hardly ever operating efficiently. I lower my head down and strain my ears to hear if a slight buzzing sound is present, as you can never be too safe. Upon hearing none, I crawl under the small opening and make my way towards where the tree line starts.

I know who's waiting for me in there, one of the only three people I can actually let myself trust. Grabbing my bow and arrows that I keep hidden in a bag in a thick hollow tree stump, my mind starts to wander about how the day's activities are going to go. Just before I can get too deep in thought I feel a hand on my shoulder.

Berwald Oxenstierna is a blond haired, blue-eyed eighteen-year-old boy whom I made friends with a few years ago. Many villagers fear him while the ones that actually do take the time to get to know him respect him very much. He and I could spend days hunting in the forest and I would be quite content in doing so. Hunting is considered illegal, however, even the people who are supposed to enforce those rules, the Peacekeeper, don't discourage it. It keeps their stomachs full just as much as it keeps my pockets.

Our gazes lock for a fraction of a second before we take off, on the hunt for anything that crosses our paths.

* * *

 **Hey there! My name's SpainsRomano9000 and it's a pleasure to meet you!**

 **I've never personally read a Hetalia/Hunger Games fic myself but I've seen many of them through my searches~ And it is to my utter disappointment that I've come to realise no one has made a Nordic-Centered Hunger Games Fanfiction! Oh the horror!**

 **So I'm going to give this all I've got! Chapters may be short at first but will _hopefully_ get longer.**

 **Please leave any suggestions that you may have for me, as I'm rather a new writer, although I have had this fic in my mind for quite a while now...**

 **I'm open to constructive criticism if you feel there's a way for me to improve myself, any advice would be most appreciated!**

 **Please leave a review! I know most authors say this, but I really feel encouraged when reading them and I would be most honoured for hearing your opinion, or even if I should carry on with this story.**

 **Thanks so much for taking time out of your day by reading this!**

 _\- SpainsRomano9000_


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